Chivalry Lives
by A. Tenmeadows
Summary: Slightly AU. Prompt fill JackyKay to purrpickle . Santana finds Rachel being viciously bullied by a group of jocks after school. When the harassment turns sexually menacing, she decides to save the day. Santana/Rachel, 2-shot. Femslash. Don't like, don't read.
1. Slaying The Dragon

**This is the first time I'm writing for a prompt that wasn't extended to me, but because I love this pairing so much, I couldn't resist.**

**The prompt was given to purrpickle (who is a fantastic writer, and whose work I read when I'm in need of a little Faberry inspiration) by JackyKay, and it is as follows:**

"**Santana finds Rachel being viciously bullied after school by a bunch of jocks, when suddenly their teasing turns sexually menacing and Santana storms in to 'save the day' and breaks one of the boys' jaws with a hockey/lacrosse stick/baseball bat. Rachel in turn threatens to press charges on all the boys to keep the one boy from charging the Latina with assault. After that Santana takes it upon herself to keep an eye out for littlest Gleek. Rachel, being the whimsical woman she is, always did have a soft spot for that whole 'white knight' cliché.**

**Bonus points for Santana correcting her: "Hispanic Knight, Berry.""**

I'm in the process of lugging my bulky McKinley Titans lacrosse bag out to the Mustang my mombought me for my 16th birthday when I hear the commotion coming from behind the field house.

"Why, hey there, Short Stack. Off to spread some more of your Glee fairy dust?"

"No, Azimio, I'm actually here waiting for Finn, so if you'll excuse me…"

_Dammit. I'd know that self-entitled voice anywhere_, I think to myself before taking a deep breath and stepping around the sand-colored brick wall that stood between me and the altercation.

My suspicions are confirmed when I'm met with the sight of Karofsky and Azimio backing none other than Rachel Berry into the outer wall of the boys' locker room. I try to keep my eyes down as I walk brusquely toward the chain-link fence that surrounds the field, when a squeal from the ensnared girl stops me in my tracks.

"Why wait for Finn? We've got all you need right here," Karofsky sneers behind me.

I turn on my heel, my dusty black Adidas sliders grinding hard into the pavement. The tips of my ears burn in anger as Azimio grabs Rachel's waist and pins her against the wall. His Caucasian cohort drags rough fingers up the girl's thigh and smirks harshly at her. Ensuring that the petite girl's assailants' attention is diverted, I slide my red and black zebra-striped lacrosse stick out from between the handles of my duffle.

"Please, let me go," Rachel pleads desperately, and hearing her do so breaks my heart a little. I've never heard her sound so helpless.

"No way, babe," Azimio snickers before bending his head to bite down hard on his prey's shoulder. "The party's just begun."

My fists are shaking with rage, my grip on the metal of my stick tight enough to blanch the skin on my knuckles. My eyebrows draw together in concentration as I make my way toward the group. Rachel spots me first and moves to cry out, but falls silent when I hurriedly hold a single finger to my lips. Gratitude swirls in her expressive brown eyes as I drop my bag on the ground with a gravelly thud. This draws the attention of the burly football players, who pivot to look for the source of the noise. I settle into my face-off stance and prepare myself for contact.

"Good afternoon, Neanderthals. A pleasure, as always," I say with a bright artificial smile. "I believe you have my Hobbit."

Rachel winces at the nickname and tries to wriggle out of Azimio's grasp. Karofsky spots her movement and slams her back against the brick. A lone tear makes its way down her flushed cheek as she sets her jaw to bite back a whimper of pain. He laughs cruelly before turning his harsh gaze back to me.

"Get lost, Lopez. This one's ours," the large boy growls. I simply smirk and twirl my lacrosse stick in my hands.

"Sorry, can't do that. I have Yentl down for a slushie on her walk home from school, and you messing with her is throwing off my schedule. Back up, afores I ends you."

Azimio takes a step toward me while Karofsky smiles and presses his frame against Rachel's, easily outweighing her and cutting off any chance she has at escape. There's absolute terror in her eyes now, and I send her a reassuring nod to tell her I have everything under control. I watch Azimio's feet carefully, looking for an opening just like Coach Holliday taught me.

"I ain't on the South Bitch Diet, sweetheart, so why don't you just run along and find your rugby dyke before this gets nasty."

And with that, I see red. My teeth clench hard when he mentions my best friend, the blood pounding loudly in my ears.

_The line has been crossed_, I hiss angrily in my head. _No one bad-mouths Brittany._

The confident linebacker takes another large stride, and I finally have the opportunity I've been waiting for. His right foot comes down, the entirety of his body weight on his lead foot. I give him a menacing grin before jamming the crosse of my stick hard into his windpipe. Azimio drops to his knees and gasps for breath, allowing me to land a full force blow to the side of his head. Blood gushes from the laceration just above his ear as he falls limply on his side, losing consciousness before his body hits the concrete. I snicker darkly at the irony of the injury; one of our defensemen caught a swing in the same place during our match against the Lima Senior High Spartans two weeks ago. Their attacker had been slapped with a yellow card, and Matt's little sister Alexandra is now out for the season with a serious concussion as a result.

Karofsky, eyes wide at the damage I've just dealt to his partner-in-crime, releases his grip on Rachel to come at me, his meaty fist poised to strike. The petite girl scrambles to cower on the other side of the chain-link fence, tears and sobs escaping freely now. I quickly toss her a sympathetic glance before swiping the large boy's arm down with my crosse and sending the butt end forcefully into his chin. I'm rewarded with a blood-curdling crack, followed by a howl of agony from the Titans' star right guard. Karofsky's hand flies to his jaw, cradling it tenderly as he staggers backward.

"Fucking bitch!" he manages to grunt out angrily, his freshly broken jaw causing his mouth to hang open at an awkward angle. "I'll have your ass thrown in jail for this!"

Out of nowhere, Rachel steps between the two of us and begins jabbing her index finger squarely into the boy's chest to punctuate every word of her threat.

"Should you decide to press charges against Santana, I'll regale the Lima Police with all the details of how you and Azimio sexually accosted me on school grounds. I'll vouch for Santana, and tell them that you suffered your injuries as a result of her defense of me. In a small town such as this, the fall-out will be reminiscent of the Duke University Lacrosse scandal, circa 2006. Are we clear, David?"

She spits out his name as if it's bile in her throat, and I'm impressed and oddly aroused by Rachel's sudden display of courage. And, true to form, Karofsky lets out a frustrated sigh of surrender and stalks over to Azimio's concussed body, hoisting him up and proceeding to drag him into the boys' locker room. Still in an adrenaline-fuelled daze, I allow my lacrosse stick to slip from my hands and clatter to the pavement. My fists stay clenched until Rachel's soft hands cover my own. I break my focus on the locker room door to look down into her careful eyes.

"Are you alright, Santana?"

Her voice is almost at a whisper, and my ability to hear it draws my attention to our close proximity. I flash her a wry smile to hide the irregular beating of my heart beneath my red mesh Lady Titans jersey.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that, Berry?" I croak out, my hands relaxing at my sides. I slowly and begin to gather my gear, lifting my bag onto my right shoulder and taking my lacrosse stick in my left hand.

Rachel chuckles nervously and shakes her head. "I'm quite alright. A little shaken, but alright."

I nod and send her a soft smile before I start taking strides toward the student parking lot again. She lets me get a few steps before running to catch up to me and laying a light peck against my slightly sweaty cheek. I stop walking and stare at her in confusion, causing her to blush under my gaze. My eyebrow quirks up in surprise when her fingers lace themselves with mine and squeeze my hand.

"That was for saving me… being my 'white knight', so to speak."

I grin sincerely, something I rarely do for anyone other than Brittany, and return her squeeze. Her eyes light up at the affectionate gesture, sending the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy.

"'_Hispanic _knight', Berry," I correct gently. Rachel's melodious laugh fills my ears as I lead her over to my car. "Now get in, Shrimp. I'll spare you the walk home today."

She launches into another long-winded monologue about how walking is good for your health, and I begin to question my motives for rescuing her in the first place.

**Yes, there will be a second chapter; and yes, it will contain sexy times! Yay! : )**


	2. Saving The Princess

**Hello, darlings! I sincerely apologize for the wait, but I'm glad you all liked the first chapter.**

**Now, I'm writing the following chapter after a 13 hour The Real L Word/The L Word binge, so you can thank Ilene Chaiken and Showtime for inspiring me. : )**

**By the way, if anyone wants to gift-wrap Whitney Mixter and leave her on my doorstep, I'll message you my address. That girl is just TOO sexy… But her fiancee Sara Bettencourt probably already knows that. Darn. : (**

"Would you like to come in?"

The question catches me completely off-guard as my Mustang's wheels roll onto the concrete of Rachel's driveway. I tap the ignition button and the engine dies while I unlock the doors.

_Do I want to go inside with her? _I ask myself cautiously, twisting and untwisting my red and white William McKinley High School Athletics lanyard in my fingers.

_I mean, she probably shouldn't be left alone after what just happened, _my mind reasons feebly, and it's then that I'm faced with the startling reality that I want to go inside because I want to spend time with her.

I glance up at Rachel, whose soft brown eyes are gazing expectantly back at me. I let out an artificial sigh of exasperation and pull my keys from the car. "Sure, Berry. Why not?"

She gives me an excited squeal and pushes the passenger side door open. I run a nervous hand through my hair and let myself out of my car, closing the door and sending up a silent prayer as I ascend the cobblestone steps of Rachel's front porch. She unlocks her hunter green front door quickly and throws it open to reveal a very spacious and tastefully decorated living room. I vaguely remember being here for her House Party Train Wreck Extravaganza back in junior year, but without the haze of alcohol, I'm able to see that the Berry family really does have a lovely home. It feels lived-in and cozy, unlike my own house. There's a warmth here that I've never experienced before… And I think I like it.

"Vitamin Water? It's dragon fruit," Rachel calls from the kitchen, jerking me out of my sentimental moment and bringing to my attention the fact that I'm still standing in the doorway.

"Yeah, thanks," I tell her when she comes back with two bottles of the sweet flavored beverage. I reach to grab it, and suddenly a stab of pain runs through my shoulder, radiating down to my elbow. I grasp it tightly and hiss in agony as I fall to the black leather couch.

"Santana, are you alright?" Rachel's at my side immediately, her voice laced with concern. The two bottles of Vitamin Water lay abandoned on the mahogany coffee table in front of us as Rachel's fingers dance soothingly up and down my arm. I straighten up and try to stop my face from contorting from the twinge in my shoulder.

_Damn rotator cuff, _I swear inwardly. The memory of when I tore it during a face-off at summer league flashes through my mind. My opponent had been at least a hundred pounds heavier than me, and she probably had a few inches on me in terms of height as well. But, being stubborn and full of stupid pride, I hadn't backed down. Needless to say, my blind confidence was rewarded with a torn rotator cuff, two reparative surgeries, and a temperamental shoulder. I must have aggravated it in my heroic rescue of Rachel this afternoon.

"I'm fine, Rach," I grunt out. "I tore my right rotator cuff last summer. I probably just pissed it off when I cracked Karofsky's face today."

Rachel's hand lands softly on top of my own, stilling my own movements to begin her own. I lift my head to look into her nurturing eyes. "Would you like me to massage it for you? I've heard that massage can relieve the pain of old tendon injuries…"

Her voice goes from confident to nervous as her fingers trace firm patterns into my sun-kissed skin. Her eyes fall from my own to stare at the flesh beneath her hand, and I turn on the sofa so that my back is to her. My breathing catches in my throat when I feel her other hand, slightly cold from holding the refrigerated Vitamin Water, pulling up the hem of my lacrosse jersey.

"You should probably take this off," Rachel whispers timidly. "Just so that my massage can be more -"

I peel the offending mesh off of my body before she can finish her sentence, leaving me in only my black sports bra and practice uniform shorts. I smirk when she gasps softly in surprise at the muscle definition of my back, and shiver lightly when the pad of her index finger traces the lone surgical scar at the crevice of my shoulder. Somewhere in my comfortable haze, I manage to grip the arm of the couch to steady myself. Both of her hands begin to knead the muscles deliciously, and I bite my lip to stifle the moan of contentment.

Time starts to run together as Rachel's skilled digits work magic over me. I close my eyes and simply allow the euphoria of her touch to wash over me like the gentle beating of an ocean wave on a rocky shoreline. One of her hands slips between my shoulder blades, her fingers splaying across my skin and tripping over the knots of my spine. This time, I can't keep the groan from escaping.

"Rachel," I whisper in what sounds almost like a plea. _You're Santana fucking Lopez, _a harsh voice screams in my head. _Get it together._

But all thoughts leave my mind when I feel Rachel laying a tender kiss to the line of angry pink scar tissue that marks the site of my pain. Her lips are feather-soft, just like I'd always imagined they'd be, and I'm suddenly overcome with a desire to feel them everywhere. A shiver ripples through me as she continues to lightly trail her lips over my flushed skin. Her warm breath sends my body temperature through the roof, and finally, my dam of self control shatters.

"Rachel, please," I whimper, my bad-ass persona giving way to wanton begging. The petite brunette lets out a breathy chuckle and nuzzles my earlobe with her nose.

"Please what, oh wonderful _**Hispanic **_knight?" she teases and begins to work her fingers along the elastic hem of my sports bra.

"_Dios Mio… tócame, _Rachel. Please, just touch me."

No sooner do the pleas leave my dry lips than Rachel is ripping my bra over my head and turning my body so that I'm pinned between her small yet strong frame and the couch cushion. Her eyes bare into mine, and a fresh wave of wetness settles at the apex of my thighs at the lust I find in her brown irises. Our intense gaze is broken when her attention falls to my newly freed breasts. Every inch of my skin feels engulfed in flames when she dips her head and traces one of my erect nipples with her tongue. My hips buck up of their own volition, and I throw my head back in ecstasy at the delicious friction I get from her smooth thigh. Rachel moans in response to the sensation of our bodies grinding together, and my back bows upward off of the sofa to allow her better access to my chest.

"Oh, Rachel," I barely manage to gasp out between shuddering breaths. "_Necesito verte, _please… Let me see you."

Rachel reluctantly pulls her mouth away from my breasts and yanks her yellow cotton shirt over her head. It lands somewhere on the other side of the room as her lips return to my skin, planting kisses and small bites along my neck, her hands kneading my chest firmly. One of my hands, previously threaded in her thick brown locks, leaves the back of her head to make quick work of her black lace bra. I pull it from between our heated bodies and toss it on the coffee table next to our forgotten Vitamin Waters.

"Santana," Rachel keens against my pulse point as my fingers finally make contact with her chest, tweaking her nipples to hard peaks. "So good…"

Her words light me ablaze, and instead of pulling it off of her, I simply hike up her olive green tweed skirt and brush my palm against the crotch of her white cotton underwear. Rachel lets out a hiss that sounds like a slow leak from a tire, and I place a tender kiss to the bruise Azimio left on her shoulder with his teeth. Her thigh meets my center through my shorts, and my breathing hitches at the pleasure. I grind my hips down into her now thrusting thigh and continue to let my own digits play in the wetness of Rachel's covered core. I can feel myself rapidly approaching climax, but I refuse to take my tumble over the edge without the breathtakingly sexy damsel-in-distress astride me. The next events seem to happen in slow motion: I gently pull the crotch of Rachel's bikini cut underwear aside and run two fingers through the slippery heat of her folds, stopping to apply a slight pressure to her pleasure center.

"Oh, Santana," she cries out and fists the hair at the nape of my neck as I bury my face in the crook of her neck. "Just do it, please…"

I place a kiss to her ear and allow my two digits to enter her slowly. I feel the spongy barrier against my fingertips when I push in just past the first knuckle, and I bring my other arm around her waist to steady her. Her eyes are screwed shut, her forehead pressed into my collarbone. In one fluid motion, I press past the moist tissue and sheath my fingers fully in her warmth. Rachel's sharp intake of breath tells me the pain stabbed at her just as it had with me. I give her a moment to adjust to the intrusion, keeping my digits stock-still inside her.

_I just took her virginity. I, Santana Francesca Lopez, just took Rachel Barbra Berry's virginity. _I think to myself while I lay soothing kisses to her lips and jaw line. _Maybe I really am a knight._

"That's it, _mi princesa_," I coo softly into her hair. "Just breathe."

Rachel takes a series of deep, calming breaths, then nods her head against me. With her permission, I slowly pull my fingers out of her core before gliding them back in again. She is moaning for me to increase my speed by the fourth thrust, and I grin into the warm flesh of her shoulder as I oblige her. The sounds she's making are delicious; they're somewhere between breathless whispers and pleading groans. She starts grinding back against my hand while it strokes inside her, and as she does, her thigh's friction with my own core rockets me toward my peak. I bring my thumb up to circle her hardened pleasure center, and within two hard rocks of our hips, we're sent screaming over the edge, shaking in each other's arms as we fight to restore our normal breathing patterns. Rachel's head falls to my sternum with a light thud, our bodies covered in a thin sheen of perspiration from our efforts. Her panting dies down a little as I pull my fingers from her to inspect them.

Surely enough, a trickle of blood is beginning to crust beneath the nails of my index and middle digits. I smile at this while allowing my other hand to play idly with the soft hair at the base of Rachel's neck. Dropping a kiss to the crown of her head, I'm barely able to make out her mumbling against the valley between my breasts.

"What was that?" I whisper into her slightly damp locks.

She pushes herself up so that her head is resting on my collarbone, her eyes sparkling into mine. "I said that I wasn't aware knights could speak Spanish, Santana."

I chortle heartily at her joke and wrap my arms around her, guiding our bodies closer together on the sofa.

"Only the Hispanic ones, _princesa,_" I say with a grin.


End file.
